Hopeful They'll Be And Long They Will Wait
by SunWillRise2340
Summary: Isolde has always made a show of never believing in true love. But when a chance meeting leaves her thinking of nothing else, she begins to wonder whether the happy ever after really does exist.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm home!" she calls unlocking the worn green door and stepping into the small kitchen. "Dad? Grandpa? Where are you?"

"Your father's at work," her grandfather's raspy voice sounds from the sitting room. "How was school, sweetheart?"

Isolde dumps her schoolbag on the counter, and, throwing her blazer on top of it, walks into the cosy little lounge to give her grandfather a kiss. "It was alright," she perches on the end of the sofa. "Deirdre got into trouble for wearing bright blue nail varnish, but…" she trails off. "Nothing spectacular."

Tomas laughs. "Nothing about your GCSEs yet?"

"Well, we go off on study leave in two weeks," Isolde says slowly. "But apart from that, we're just revising. What do you feel like for dinner tonight, Grandpa?"

"Oh, I don't know. Whatever you feel like," he holds up his hands. "You know I'm no expert."

"No help more like," Isolde teases. "Well, I'd better get on. See you later!"

"See you later," Tomas shakes his head fondly as he watches his granddaughter disappear into the kitchen, the latch on the door banging down with an air of finality. He turns back to his book, smiling as he hears the sound of the radio being switched on.

* * *

"FREEDOM!" Gracie twirls around, the pleated skirt of her uniform flaring out around her. She links her arm with Isolde's. "Come on; don't tell me you're not excited for study leave."

"Study leave is _study _leave," Isolde reminds her hyperactive friend. "I'm going to be revising for the exams."

"Blah blah blah," Gracie slaps her free hand over her ear. "You are so boring, Izzy!"

"I'm not boring, I'm sensible," Isolde replies as the two girls amble down the high street towards their shared bus stop. "You can get away with it; you're smart."

"Smart? Me? Are you joking?" Gracie looks horrified at this affront. "I'm the ditsy, silly blonde, not the smart one!"

"Let's call it natural talent at every single subject, then," Isolde says.

"Not Music. I can't sing to save my life – or History. Worst. Subject. Ever."

"Okay, almost every subject then," Isolde amends.

"Okay," Gracie mimics. "I think I could deal with that."


	2. Chapter 2

"And on the first day of the summer holidays, it has to pour down with rain," Isolde mutters to herself as she yanks the hood of her tatty raincoat up. "Damn it."

"Hey, Isolde!" a raucous shout attracts her attention.

"What, Bradley?" she snaps back, barely sparing the boy a glance over her shoulder.

"How about hanging out with us sometime?" he's come up behind her now, placing a hand possessively on her shoulder. "It'll be fun," he says.

"Bradley. We stopped going out _last year. _If I needed a personal stalker, I would ask for one," Isolde snaps back hotly, shoving his hand off. "I have to go."

"Isolde, baby…" he whines, sounding more like a child of three than an eighteen year old boy.

"Leave me alone," Isolde yanks her basket up over her arm and walks off down the street, leaving Bradley standing alone behind her.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late," Isolde throws open the back door of the café, pulling her coat off and dumping her basket in the corner of the kitchen.

"Where've you been?" the woman who runs the café demands, rushing around as she tries to make coffee and supervise the cooking at the same time.

"Held up by the Stalker Bradley," Isolde says, hurriedly tying on her apron. "And then Dad wanted me to get a few things from the shop."

"Okay, I'll let you off just this once. Get out to the front and start taking orders."

* * *

"Hello, what can I get you?" Isolde asks in a cheerful tone, notepad and pen at the ready. The boy sitting alone at his table looks up, and Isolde blushes, cursing herself for sounding so annoyingly chirpy.

"Just a coffee, please," he says, smiling at her. Isolde pushes her hair back behind her ear, looking away.

"Of course. Are you sure I can't persuade you to try one of our homemade cakes?" she bites her bottom lip.

"No, thanks," he says. "Just the coffee." He picks up his book again, and she turns to leave, heading back into the kitchen.

* * *

"And you didn't even try and get his number? I'm ashamed at you, Isolde Maolisa Bailey," Deidre puts her hands on her hips, mock-glaring at her friend.

"Look, he's just a client at the café. I have a reputation as best waitress to uphold – I can't go asking for fit clients' numbers, Dee," Isolde shoots back, closing her eyes as she leans against the chain of the swing.

"Lay off her, Dee," Grace says lazily from her spot on the grass. "What'd he look like, Izzy?"

Isolde blushes again. "Dark hair, grey eyes. Tall, I think, but he was sitting down."

"But you didn't even get his name?" Deirdre presses.

"Dee, I was working," Isolde says, exasperated. "Look, if I see him again, I'll get his name and his number, okay?"

"Pinky swear?" Deidre sounds about five years old, pouting up at her friend.

"Pinky swear," Isolde sighs.

* * *

**A/N So we've met dear old Ceddy - I promise there will be more action next chapter, I'm just getting the setting down. Enjoy!**

**Love**

**SWR**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **Sorry I haven't updated recently, I've had exams, so I've been revising. But they're all over now, so I can get back to writing! Yay!

* * *

"I had a phone call from your aunt," Nicolas sits down heavily as Isolde places a steaming plate of rice and casserole in front of him.

"Oh?" Isolde asks absently as she spoons sauce onto her own plate. "What about?"

"Genevieve and Olivia are coming to stay," Nicolas sighs.

"Dad!" Isolde drops the spoon into the bowl, causing sauce to splatter over the table and her t-shirt.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but their father is away with Jason, and all of their school friends are busy," Nicolas tries to remonstrate with his daughter.

Isolde puts her hands on her hips; glares at her father. "For how long?"

"Only a couple of days. They'll be here and gone before you know it."

Isolde's anger leaves as quickly as it came. "That's alright then. Sorry for yelling."

"That's alright," Nicolas begins to eat. "You might want to go and change your top."

* * *

"Dee, save me," Isolde flops on her friend's bed and stares up at the ceiling. "I can't last an hour with Genevieve, let alone three days."

Deirdre grimaces in sympathy, grabbing her towel to dry her hair. "She's the stuck-up blonde one who told me I was an ignorant cow?"

"Yep," Isolde would laugh at the memory if she wasn't so worked up.

"Then I called her a heinous bitch, and she stormed off," Deirdre shakes her head. "She has serious temper issues."

"Too right," Isolde closes her eyes.

* * *

"That jumper looks like it hasn't been washed in five years," Genevieve greets her cousin with a sneer.

_Stay calm, stay calm, _Isolde reminds herself, forcing a smile onto her face. "Lovely to see you too, Genevieve. Hi, Olivia."

"Hey, Isolde," the younger girl smiles shyly. "Hello, Uncle Nicolas."

"Hi, sweetie," Nicolas says, bending down to hug her. "You've grown."

"Everyone says that," Olivia bites her lip. "I don't think I've grown that much, though."

Genevieve taps her foot, examining her perfectly painted nails. "Is there anything to do around here?" she interrupts.

"Isolde is going to take you out for lunch at the café she works at," Nicolas puts on a tired smile. "Aren't you?" he prompts.

"Yes, I am," Isolde says.

"The café? Is that the best you can come up with?" Genevieve heaves a sigh. Isolde shoots daggers at her cousin.

"Sorry if it doesn't cater to your tastes, Miss I-go-to-school-in-a-proper-castle," Isolde snaps.

"Isolde," Nicolas puts a hand on his daughter's shoulder warningly. Genevieve glares at her.

"Well, I'd better go and do my make-up if we're going to this _café_," she tosses her blonde mane over one shoulder, and flounces past Nicolas, Isolde and Olivia, into the house.


End file.
